Peppermint and Vodka
by FreelySheRoams
Summary: Sometimes a person just needs a little help finding themselves. And when you're married, you need help finding each other. Warnings: Serious Issues and Sexual Situations.
1. Prologue

**Please read author's note!**

 **A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again, this is a belated birthday request for the lovely AbbyGibbs (thank you for your help)! I had this idea in mind for a few months, and wasn't going to post it, but I decided to go for it with this opportunity. It's a little darker for a holiday AU story, but there is light at the end of the tunnel, just stick with me. This will be a two shot and the second part will be out very shortly.**

 **Warnings: Deals with Serious Issues and Strong Sexual Situations**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Peppermint and Vodka  
**

Prologue:

Playing with the stem of the wine glass; admiring the maroon print of her lips as she blatantly avoided her husband's stern gaze from across the table. Her actions all night screamed passive aggressive; a foreign tactic, but not entirely rare for the normally bubbly blonde.

Though the concept of normal; something now tainted and long forgotten – having years to tarnish under the strain of long work hours dealing with gut-wrenching cases, and the cruel ticking of time; a taunting reminder that chemistry and flirty banter wasn't always the key to salvaging heart ache and loss – that occasionally time forgets to stitch up the seeping pain of an open wound.

The teasing wrinkles upon her face; creased with irritation, pulling her lips into a frown, as she reached for the new bottle of wine – ignoring the quick flash of worry that shifted to the ever-present disdain on Derek's face. Filling the glass to the rim, mesmerized with the dark liquid of Zinfandel; wishing the robust fruity flavors had the spicy acerbic kick of something a lot stronger – selfishly wanting the remaining guests to leave, so she could break into their personal liquor cabinet.

The jarring twist of guilt; subtle but poignant – taunting her with the residual of last nights' fight, with the man who was starting to look his age; stress and shattered hope, leaving a lasting impression on his beautiful toffee skin. Regretting the hurtful words spoken out of anger; over Derek's valiant effort to keep alcohol out of the house, but she wanted it, needed it – craving the dull ache of its depressant quality and the control it allowed her to believe she had – having fought tooth and nail, making him sleep on the couch for those two restless nights, until he had finally caved in and restocked the cabinet.

It was wrong and she knew it, everyone at their holiday party knew in – having spent most of the night avoiding their concerned gazes and laughing off their tepid remarks with a flippant response. Yes, it was a slippery slope, one she was drowning in – but she no longer cared, as the isolating loneliness crept into her soul and left her bitterly exposed.

"Garcia," Aaron's tone kept its professional lilt, even as he stood there; having ditched the suit and tie, donning fitted jeans and a crisp white button up shirt instead.

"Y-Yes Sir," she slurred; plastering a wide grin across her face – enjoying the lax weight of her body, a temporary bliss that made the twinkling lights of the tree and sugary aroma of peppermint a little easier to handle.

"It's getting late," narrowed gaze drifting to Morgan, before softening and assessing her slumped position, near the end of the table. "I'm going to take Prentiss home."

Penelope snorted; an inelegant sound – an unfiltered reaction; one that normally would have made her blush with embarrassment, but tonight – glazed hazel eyes watching her boss and friend, huddle close together – as if she didn't know what they were up to; she didn't really care to spare anyone's feelings.

Emily was finally back on the team, and after a year of readjustment and reluctant forgiveness – the two Agents had given _love_ a shot. Penelope was happy, well if it was under better circumstances, she would have been planning their wedding by now; bordering annoying exuberance with joy for her two dear friends, but as she caught her own husband's tense shoulders and ticking jaw – understanding the burden of commitment, she couldn't seem to muster up a 'congratulations' for the secretive pair.

"Hmm," taking a large sip, sloshing the dark liquid on her chin; staining the front of her Santa cardigan – the festive cashmere doing little to brighten her mood. "Oh frack!" she mumbled, dabbing the soft fabric with a used napkin.

Emily walked over, embracing her into a tight bear hug; face full of unmasked sympathy "The party was…lovely Penelope, thanks for inviting us."

Giving up on fixing her sweater; tears stinging her eyes – seeking comfort in the warmth of Emily's firm grasp.

"Talk to him," a whispered demand; freezing Penelope to the spot.

Before she could even respond a shrill ring shattered her raging emotions, barely registering the goodbye hug from Hotch, as he and Emily quickly left – forgetting their leftovers, leaving the sullen pair to their own devices.

"Hi Ma," Derek stood up, pacing by the couch – rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to assuage his mother's worry.

Penelope rolled her eyes; biting back the guilt of not being in Chicago for Christmas. Feeling the suffocating memory seize her chest, nearly fumbling the glass, barely catching it before it fell to the floor – clattering the dishes as she tried to put it back down.

Derek glared; annoyance plastered across his face – throwing heated daggers of accusation.

Nausea swept through Penelope; pulsing regret – reminding her that a year had passed since, since…

Noticing Derek had stepped into his office – hearing snippets of his conversation; her name coming up more than she would have liked. Feeling her high slowly start to wane, needing to remedy the losing battle of her emotions; she headed towards the coveted cabinet – grinning at the beverage she had wanted all evening.

Taking the half empty bottle outside to the patio; relishing in the cool night air as it shivered over her heated skin – taking a swig; immune to the acidic burn that churned her gut, piercing fire through her veins.

"Vodka?" that gruff voice; calm but concerned, drifted over her.

Plopping down on a lawn chair, waving the bottle above her head, like a prize possession – feeling a bit stupid for having forgotten that Rossi was still here.

"That's r-right my S-Super Agent," her giggle being swallowed by a hiccup.

Rossi lifted his leg; snuffing out his cigar on the bottom of his shoe – pulling up a chair next to her. Dark whiskey eyes; intense but soothing – searching; seeking the Penelope buried beneath a year of miserable sorrow which no sparkling barrette or flashy heels could hide.

"The porcini and nepitella were delicious," a neutral topic; safe and inviting.

"Thanks," she smiled; a glimpse of genuine pride lighting those dour eyes.

"Penelope," using her first name; needing to grab her attention, as he watched her swig more Vodka – starring at the sky; glazed eyes trying to find constellations she had no understanding of.

Taking a breath; being a man who hated wasting time beating around the bush – wanting to help guide her on a path of healing, before what little was left of the two prominent members of the BAU were destroyed for good.

"When are you going to stop blaming him?" a statement; cruelly lingering in the silence, forcing Garcia's head to snap in his direction – eyes blazing with fury.

"What?" sitting up, blinking back the tears. "I-I…don't blame…him," unable to meet his gaze; the heavy weight of guilt nearly crushing.

"Does he know that?" reaching forward, taking the bottle away – encasing her delicate hand with his strong one; squeezing it with comfort. "It was no one's fault, Kitten."

"S-Stop it," she blanched; pulling against him – refusing to cry; a challenge for her innate sensitive soul.

"You shouldn't blame yourself either…"

"Shouldn't I…I'm the one responsible…he was too tiny…I didn't…" standing up; unable to face the tragic moment, so vitally important to reeling her life off the tracks.

"I'm fine," crossing her arms, tapping her black stiletto against the old wooden porch. "It's getting late."

Rossi stood, nodding his head; realizing his mistake – though as passion burned in her normally dull eyes; back rigid with anger – he smirked to himself, knowing his job was done.

"Okay, Dolcezza," kissing her forehead, a last attempt to ease her worries – catching Derek's narrowed gaze inside the house, as he stood in front of the fireplace talking to his mother. "I'll see myself out," making sure to bring the bottle with him; leaving the sliding door open as he nodded his goodbye to Derek and escaped from the argument that was destined to happen.

Penelope gripped the railing; basking in the calm before the storm – lifting her chin, daring to match her husband's searing gaze with a furious one of her own.

"I know…I am…everything…yeah, no everything is… _fine_ ," his voice, a deep timbre that still lured her body; even as her heart and mind battled against each other. "Okay, I love you too...goodbye," hanging up; tossing the cellphone on the littered coffee table – eyes never leaving her as they continued their standoff.

He was now barefoot, wearing those black jeans and soft knitted sweater; a forest green that brought out the golden flecks of his eyes, a gift she had bought him for their first Christmas together, which he had traditionally worn for the last three years – wearing it like a badge of honor, in the brutal war they were inflicting upon each other.

Taking a deep, calming breath; settling her nerves before heading back inside – avoiding the tension that seemed to bleed through the air like a poisonous serpent; coiling around every thought and action – waiting to strike.

"Mom says hi," picking up his forgotten beer; distracting himself by fiddling with the neck of the bottle as he tore at the sticker.

"Hmm, I'll call her back later," collecting the dishes from the table with no rhyme or reason, just needing to keep busy, allowing herself some more… _time_.

Running the hot water, harshly scraping food into the trash, clattering the dishes back into the sink – each jarring sound; a disjointed cadence tethering her to reality.

"Penelope," that clipped tone – serious and unyielding.

"Not now, Derek," grabbing the large porcelain bowl; a gift from JJ and Will on their wedding – something she rarely got to use.

"When?" hearing his footsteps get closer; feeling the ire rise beneath his breath. "Next year!"

"Don't you start with me," whirling around; tears glistening – blurring her vision; fueling her own agitation.

An unstable stillness surrounded them; callous and brittle – a delicate balance, stumbling to its breaking point.

"You haven't even said his name," he spat; nostrils flaring as he edged just a little closer – trapping her inside the kitchen.

"S-Stop it," a choked sob; a betrayal of her disguised strength.

"Say his name, god damn it!" his jaw ticked; one who rarely raised his voice – never at a woman, never at his wife; hating the brief terror and anguish that flashed upon her face.

"I-I…can't,"

"Please, Pen…for me, can you just…"

She shook her head, slowly stepping backwards.

"Why can't you fucking say his name!" brows furrowed, lips snarled in disgust – barely a few feet away. "Didn't he mean anything to you? Did our _son_ mean anything to you!"

"Fuck you, Morgan!" body shaking with fury, slamming into the counter behind her – dropping the delicate dish on the floor, shattering into jagged splinters at her feet.

Silence. Beating hearts and panting breaths. Until…

"I'm not going to let you forget him, Pen," anguish creased every fine line of his face – making him appear vulnerably terrifying.

Her breath hitched at the horrible accusation – one that twisted her gut and riveted her to the spot. And she couldn't deny it.

"Aiden," she whispered, staring at the tiled floor – feeling her heart burst at the seams; flooding her body, mind and soul with every knotted emotion she had tried to keep locked away – hidden beneath the suffocating guilt of losing a child too soon.

"Aiden…Aiden…Aiden!" she screamed; pushing at his chest with such force he stumbled into the center island. "Are you _fucking_ happy, you prick!" he caught himself, quickly brushing himself off and heading towards her – only for her to hold up her hand, finger pointing in petulant indignation. "Don't you ever, ever accuse me of not loving my son!"

"That's not what I-…"

"Yes," jabbing her finger into the hard, rippled muscle of his chest. "It is."

Surging forward, wrapping his arms around her waist; yanking Penelope away from the mess and slamming her into the fridge behind him – ignoring her sharp nails as they dug through the soft fabric of his sweater in protest. "Talk to me, Penelope…you need to talk about it."

"Get...off!" she gritted out; a claustrophobic entity – forcing her to remember.

"No!" squeezing her; clutching the supple body he had missed for almost a year – scared she would disappear the moment he let her go. "I can't lose you, Baby Girl."

That nickname – their nicknames; unused, gathering cobwebs all these months - neither of them finding the joy in being playful since burying their son.

And it was that simple, endearing name that opened the doors to the past; destroying her last weakening defense – crumbling her heart; clinging to Derek, as her mind flashed with an onslaught of memories.

To be continued…


	2. I

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Wow, thank you everyone for the support, it truly means a lot! I'm sorry this chapter gets a bit dark at the beginning, and I hope I found a balance with some sweeter moments at the end. Once again, thank you AbbyGibbs for giving me the chance to write this!  
**

 **Warnings: Deals with Serious (Delicate) Issues and Strong Sexual Situations  
**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Peppermint and Vodka**

I:

* * *

" _ **Push, Penelope…keep pushing, almost there," a voice; distant and incoherent.**_

 _ **Sweat matted her bangs; pooling down her spine with exertion.**_

" _ **Keep breathing…his shoulder's stuck…forceps!"**_

 _ **White fluorescent lights, flickered – tiled walls; frigid and sterile. The astringent aroma of bleach, irritating the pulsing migraine between her furrowed brows.**_

" _ **Get her on oxygen…now!"**_

 _ **Searing pain ripped through her back with deep, crippling contractions – pulling, tugging, seizing her abdomen – tearing a scream from her parted lips, blurring her vision, grasping her husband's hand; his encouraging words drowned out by the chaos around them.**_

" _ **Four, five, six…push, push…seven, eight, nine…wait, stop Penelope**_ _!"_

 _ **Her mind drifted; coasting on a hollow plain of desperation – of the naive bliss just a few hours prior.**_

" _Oh Pen! Look at you!" Fran squealed with excitement; peppering her with affection – eyes glistening with pride as she gently wrapped her into a warm embrace; hands resting on her pregnant belly. "I bet he's going to have a full head of hair just like his Daddy!"_

 _Penelope giggled; teasingly rubbing her glitter nails over Derek's bald held as he waggled his expressive brows in amusement._

" _Our little baby Hot Stuff," she smiled, giving him a quick peck on the lips as they went further into the house to greet the rest of the family and escape the chill of Chicago's winter._

" _ **Don't push, Penelope…keep breathing…"**_

" _Your boobs look…amazing, girl!" Sarah shouted; making her sister-in-law blush as she nibbled on some homemade peppermint bark. "I didn't even gain a full cup size when I had Danny!"_

" _They've always been impressive, Sweetness!" Derek grinned; wrapping his arms around her protectively as she fed him a piece of the sugary treat._

 _She swatted at him with playful annoyance; enjoying the heat behind his eyes._

" _So have you picked out a name yet?" Desiree blew on the hot chocolate; dark eyes twinkling with curiosity from the bright lights hanging above her head – Fran having gone all out this year; celebrating the joy of her baby boy having a son._

" _Well…I'm not sure" Penelope mumbled over a piece of candy; covering her mouth, though her pouty lips were spread into a wide grin, betraying her denial._

" _Oh, please tell us!" Sarah clapped her hands; dropping the popcorn garland._

 _Penelope chewed on her bottom lip; hating to be secretive – wanting to brag about the name she and Derek had searched months for; needing the name to be perfect for their little champ. Bouncing on her sequined flats; nixing high heels for comfort – hating her swollen feet and wider hips, causing her always perceptive husband to chuckle behind her._

" _Go ahead, Pretty Mama," giving her soft honeyed curls a kiss; taking a deep breath of his favorite strawberry and jasmine aroma. "Tell them."_

 _Rubbing her belly with soothing circles._

" _Aiden…" glancing around the room; basking in the love that surrounded them. "His name is Aiden."_

" _ **Breathe…okay, Penelope I need a big push from you on the next one…One…two…three."**_

" _ **It hurts!"**_

" _ **I know, just a little more, okay!"**_

" _ **I-I can't…it's too early!"**_

" _ **Come on Baby Girl!"**_

" _ **No! NO!"**_

" _ **Four…five…six…breath, Penelope, breathe…seven…eight…nine…there's too much blood!"**_

" _Oh Fran!" tears rolled down her cheeks as she held up the little cream and teal crocheted blanket – a delicate gift, she was honored to have. "It's beautiful."_

" _My mother made it for Derek when he was a baby," picking up the wrapping paper, so she could sit down next to her on the sofa. "And I want you to have it," gently wiping a tear from Penelope's cheek. "I think Aiden is going to love it."_

" _Oh, he will!" sniffling, holding Derek's hand as he squeezed her shoulder._

" _Can I?" hand hovering over Pen's belly._

" _Of course," grabbing her hand, resting it on the spot beneath her ribs. "He hasn't been kicking lately," a worried frown quivered her lips; emotions raw and exposed with each and every little fear that consumed a Mother._

 _Fran hugged her close, rubbing delicate patterns – easing the baby awake; receiving a faint flutter in return. "He's just stubborn like his Daddy,"_

 _Penelope laughed, catching Derek's wide grin and those simmering amber eyes filled with love, and nodded. "He really is."_

" _ **He has a full head of curls, Baby Girl!" a choked sob of pure wonderment and adoration. "You're doing great!"**_

 _ **Burning agony shot through her body, leaving her on a horrible cusp of exhaustion and painful frustration; wanting to stop pushing, to curl up into a ball and go back to sleep, while the rest of her trembled with the innate desire to push – needing to find relief, wanting to see her baby.**_

 _ **But it was too soon.**_

 _Bolting awake; feeling the first twinge shoot through her belly and spasm down her back, causing her heart to clench with fear. Bracing herself as the first wave rocked through her; holding her breath, praying that it was just a simple stitch in her side from sleeping on the couch._

 _Stepping over a snoring Derek, who was sleeping uncomfortably below her on several sleeping bags; his childhood bedroom being off limits because of a pipe bursting the week before and Penelope, more than seven months pregnant, was not having her mother-in-law sleeping out in the living room – besides, she loved staring at the beautiful tree with all its twinkling lights and homemade ornaments, comforted by the warm flames of the fireplace._

 _Walking around the coffee table, trying to stretch out her legs – when that searing cramp seized her abdomen once more; nearly toppling her over. Bent in half; gasping for breath as her vision blurred – little warning bells went off; pulsing anxiety through her shaking body, as tears prickled her eyes._

 _Catching sight of the clock; almost three in the morning – Aiden should be dancing in her belly; keeping her awake for the rest of the night…but tonight, there was no movement._

 _Pain rippled through her body once more; teeth clenched as she swallowed a tearful whimper, only for wetness; warm and shocking, to run down her legs. Staring at the crimson puddle pooled at her feet; staining her blue snowflake nightgown – sending terror sweeping through her, and she screamed._

" _Derek! Wake up!"_

 _Her husband rolled over, slamming his head on the ledge of the coffee table, blinking a few times before sensing his wife's panic and shooting over to her, only to stop in his tracks when he spotted the blood._

 _There was too much blood._

 _It was too soon._

" _ **One more push, Penelope…come on, that's it!"**_

 _ **Her body slumped, feeling her son leave her body – letting Derek pepper her sweaty face with kisses, crushing her with loving words of admiration.**_

 _ **But as the seconds ticked away; whirling past them with a swarm of nurses – shouting medical phrases neither of them could comprehend.**_

 _ **Realization, like drowning in an ocean of jagged ice, fell upon the happy couple…**_

 _ **Aiden wasn't crying.**_

 _ **The somber regret masked by professionalism from the Doctor's eyes as she snapped off her bloody gloves and plastic gown drifted over Penelope like broken fragments – twisting the bone-chilling sorrow; coiling the heart ache and drowning her in suffocating numbness.**_

" _ **I'm so sorry…cord around neck…stillbirth…nothing you could do."**_

 _ **Her son was gone, before he was even born.**_

* * *

Penelope snapped; raw emotions breaking open – bursting a strangled sob from her throat as she clung desperately to Derek.

"My b-baby…"

"Shh…I know, Princess…I know."

It hurt. Everything just…hurt.

To have a cruel, teasing glimpse of happiness – stolen the moment she held her son; little bundled body no longer warm and tinted blue.

Having to choose an outfit, a few days later, that was way too big – a little Chicago Bears onesie; making sure to wrap him inside the safety of the soft fabric of that cream and teal blanket as they lowered his little casket – drowned by Penelope's wails and Derek's stoic tension.

A deep rooted fury, festering inside her chest; having been subdued for months – churned in the pit of her gut, surfacing as she remembered every sympathetic look and melancholy apology.

Pushing away from Derek – needing to find control before she shattered into pieces; unrecognizable even to herself.

"Stop it, Penelope!" he barked, trying to grab her wrist only for her to twist away as she bolted towards the living room.

"I'm not…doing this!" shaking her head; reaching for something, anything – grabbing the heavy ceramic lamp, only to chuck it across the room, barely missing Derek's head as it dented the wall and exploded across the hardwood floor. "Not today!"

"Stop running away from this…away from me!"

"Don't you tell me what to do!"

"Someone has to, since you're doing a shit job of taking care of yourself!" he bellowed; storming across the room in an instant, forcing her back and stumbling into the armchair.

"I said not today!" picking up the fuzzy pink throw pillow and smacking him with it, only to raise it and swing again.

"How come?" easily wrapping a muscled arm around her and tugging the pillow free. "You need to say it!" holding her struggling body; plastering every soft curve against the hard planes of his own.

She scratched at his arms as the first sob escaped; digging her heels into the carpet, trying to get away – only to exhaust herself, and fall slack in his arms.

"Today…would have been…his birthday," feeling his grip tighten, rubbing soothing circles – those delicate patterns she had grown to love; coaxing the anger out of her, a cleansing purge. "He…Aiden," she couldn't say it.

She just…couldn't.

"Aiden would have been one today," he whispered; being her husband, being the support he had taken a vow to be – forcing her to feel the pain, in order to heal…before he lost Penelope for good.

She broke away with assured agility; eyes blazing with intensity and she struck – a stinging slap, echoed around the deafening silence, and her face crumpled with shocking regret.

"Derek!" latching onto his sweater. "I didn't mean that…oh god, I'm so, sorry!"

His nostrils flared; amber eyes nearly obsidian with pained confusion and something else she recognized…something she hadn't allowed herself to see for a very long time; having ignored every comforting touch and whispered affection, feeling guilty and undeserving.

Recognizing; finally admitting, that what she needed…what she wanted, was standing right in front of her – all fuming muscles and tender devotion.

Tugging him forward into a bruising kiss; completely consuming – igniting the passion that laid dormant underneath layers of battered suffering.

Their tongues dueled; fighting for dominance, until he yielded – allowing her to stroke; plunder and steal the control that was vital to her survival.

His hands grasped her soft flesh, finding his way under her cardigan – cool palms dragging against the heated skin of her back, until he reached around the front and tore the red fabric wide open – scattering buttons around them, revealing a dark scarlet lace bra; large pale swells with petal pink tips; pebbled and inviting, visible to his heated gaze.

It was new, something never worn – put on for a special occasion, and it was at this moment, that Derek knew he had won this battle, long before the day had even begun.

Or rather, Penelope had won – aware that tonight was a tipping point in their already strained marriage, that tonight was going to lead to this moment; wearing the push-up bra with unbridled confidence – ready to fight, ready to become a team again.

All she needed, was a simple…push.

"Pen," voice guttural; nerves tingling with excitement – heavy heart sore with pain as it pulsed waves of yearning; carnal hunger, throughout his body.

"Don't," she hissed, scraping her teeth along his jaw, in those frenzied nips that drove him wild.

And he got the message – loud and clear.

Lifting Penelope off her feet, legs wrapped around his lean torso; carrying her over to wall next to the fireplace – as she swiftly unbuckled his belt and drew down his zipper; fingers delving into his briefs with practiced ease as she stroked his heated length, pulling a groan from his panting lips as he thrust into her hand – greedily taking what he achingly missed all these months.

Sliding his hand up her bare leg, until they reached the matching lace thong – locking eyes with her as he swirled the wet heat around and delved two fingers and lace inside her. She moaned, bucking against him only to dig her nails into his shoulders and neck; bringing him closer for another kiss.

Sliding his fingers back and forth; an enticing rhythm, before crooking them, only to spear; probe just a little further inside her slick inner walls – reveling in the tight flutter of pleasure that contorted her supple body against him.

"I-I…need, please…fuck!"

He wasn't going to give it to her, if she wanted control…she needed to take it herself.

Slowing his pace, swirling the wetness around her entrance; tracing her swollen lips with the silk fabric – avoiding that bundle of nerves, beckoning for pressure.

Her eyes flared wide, and she growled – frustration growing at the smug grin across his face, arched brow pointed in defiance.

Dropping her legs; wobbling on stilettos – shucking off her cardigan, before reaching forward and swiftly pulling down his black briefs and jeans in one fell swoop. He eagerly kicked them off and then dropped before her, intending to feast on his prize – allowing her some reprieve, only for her to push him down and onto his back.

Kicking off her ruined panties, she gave him a simpering look – one he thought, she had forgotten all about, and swung her leg over; gently but firmly guiding him inside of her, until he was fully seated within her.

His head rolled back; at the slick velvet vice that gripped his rigid length, basking in the heat that surrounded him – a perfect fit, that could only be his Penelope.

The flickering flames of the fire and their panting breaths, were the only noise in the tension filled room – a familiar cadence they had been dancing around for far too long.

She rocked forward, slow and deliberate; giving her time to adjust – nibbling on her glossy, bottom lip from the aching pressure as she stared through half lidded eyes down upon him. The cool, smooth satin of her skirt brushed against his thighs and stomach; a tantalizing contrast to the blazing heat consuming him.

Finding that control, using her body to communicate – remembering the dance as old as time, as she picked up speed; undulating her hips – clenching and sliding up, before slamming back down – a rhythm they mastered long ago.

"Fuck," he gritted out, it had been too long – having used only his hand for release all these months, feeling his body tingling; coiling with blissful pleasure that Penelope could easily take from him. "Baby, let me help you."

She shook her head, swatting away his hands as they snuck under her skirt. Her little feminine whimpers were driving him closer to the edge; digging his fingers into the flesh of her ass to avoid release – then she slowed, just the slightest – lifting the bottom of his sweater and tugged.

Sitting up, letting her rip the green knitted fabric right off, only for her to gasp and freeze above him.

He took a moment to realize she had stopped; shocked to feel wet drops upon his bare chest. Looking up to see her face; twisted with emotions – anger and sorrow flashing across her face, but humbled adoration – love; lingered in those hazel eyes, as one hand covered her mouth and the other reached forward.

Delicately touching the intricate ink of his new tattoo – their son's name, Aiden Christopher Morgan; written in an elegant flourished script – one she recognized as her own, rested above two little footprints and last year's date.

Her lungs seized as her fingers traced the memory of him over her husband's heart – mesmerized, as it seemed to dance in the shadows cast by the fire.

It was the shattering moment; a selfless gift – branding him with their commitment to each other, a beautifully painful reminder of all that they lost, but of everything they lived for.

"Oh, Derek," she whimpered; tears falling freely from her eyes as she let the wrenching sobs take over.

"Shh Baby Girl, I got you," sitting up; repeating the mantra as he rocked her, gently lulling her through the brutal exposure of her grief.

Time seemed to stop; slowly stitching broken pieces back together, allowing Penelope to feel once more.

Her sobs, slowly turned to hiccups, and she finally looked into his eyes, giving him a kiss.

A simple, tender kiss, that slowly turned into frenzied fervor, as teeth clicked and lips became bruised.

She started a new pace, an alluring swivel of her hips, until that wasn't enough and she was kneeling over him, pushing his shoulders into the itchy carpet as she undulated frantically above him.

Then it happened – a shimmering climax, a gentle wave of heated pinwheels that spiraled through her core and shot down her spine, as his powerful release spilled inside of her.

She laid on top of him, honeyed curls tickling his face and neck as she peppered his chest with kisses – giving the two little footprints a kiss, and then she sat up just the slightest and blushed.

"I…I didn't get you anything, Hot Stuff," her bottom lip quivered, feeling like the worst wife on the planet – selfishly cruel and completely stupid...only for him to firmly grip her chin; stopping her train of thought and making her look at him.

"Yeah you did, Baby Girl," tracing his thumb beneath that plump bottom lip he loved so much – staring at her; conveying every emotion, most of all – hope. "I still got you."

* * *

 **Fin.**


End file.
